


Commencement

by tristesses



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 20:00:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristesses/pseuds/tristesses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>T'Pring had never expected to leave Vulcan, much less join Starfleet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Commencement

**Author's Note:**

> This is a snippet from a WIP that I've been working on for...oh, three years now? I think I can say with certainty it will never be finished. Still, I liked this part a lot and think it stands on its own, so I decided to post it, rather than let it languish away in my WIP folder!
> 
> Inspired by [T'Pring's amazing hair](http://images2.fanpop.com/image/photos/9700000/T-Pring-vulcans-9702835-526-638.jpg).

_Starfleet Academy, Stardate 2260.105_

Her scalp is sore. It has been years since she had arranged her hair in its formal twists and loops; what was appropriate at the Vulcan Science Academy or while on Vulcan Beta was impractical in Starfleet, and T'Pring has grown used to wearing a long, single braid down the middle of her back, accentuated by blunt-cut bangs. She had planned to braid it for this commencement ceremony as well, but it seemed a logical time to remind her classmates (and herself as well) of her heritage, to emphasize that while she is now a member of Starfleet, she is also—perhaps primarily—Vulcan. If she made the decision after learning that Commander Spock of the _Enterprise_ would be attending the ceremony, then it is coincidence; his arrival was irrelevant.

T'Pring refuses to turn her eyes to the side of the stage, where Spock and his captain are waiting to greet the graduates with either handshakes or nods. Their bond, stretched thin and insubstantial over the years, pulses at their proximity; she doesn't believe they've shared a room since they were children. Yet still she senses him, tightly coiled tension poised to spring; his psi-levels rival hers, but he has never had the unbreakable control required to fully manage his telepathy and the outpouring of emotion it bears with it. This is, she thinks, the reason why he left Vulcan to be among humans, and why she remained to pursue the Healing arts, where one must have impeccable telepathic control or risk injuring one's patients.

She wonders if he believes she joined Starfleet for him. It would be a logical conclusion; distance aside, they are still bondmates, and it would be more practical to stay in close contact now that they've reached maturity to ensure they would have an outlet when their Time comes. It would also be entirely wrong; T'Pring has no intention of allowing anything, whether it be Spock, tradition, or the limitations of Surak's logic, to confine her where she does not wish to be confined.

When the dean calls her name, T'Pring tips her chin up and glides to the podium, giving no sign of her discomfort. She accepts his congratulations with an imperious nod, but the anxiety she's staved off so far is building in her stomach, feeling uncomfortably like acid reflux. Since arriving at the Academy, T'Pring has found that emotion, however well-controlled, frequently has unpleasant physical manifestations as well—ones she can't afford to show when she looks Spock in the eye.

_You are adrift on a turbulent ocean, but you control the waves_ , she tells herself, and meditates on the thought as the dean affixes her rank insignia to her sleeve. By the time she turns to face Captain Kirk and her betrothed, she is serene, or close enough to it to deceive the human. Kirk offers his hand before his eyes flit over her eyebrows and ears, his eyes widening at his realization of his faux pas, but T'Pring takes it in a firm grip and shakes it in the human fashion. She assesses his emotions—boredom, primarily, followed by disconcertion, intrigue, and a brief, disorienting spike of lust—and registers in herself enough cold amusement at his predictably human reaction to her species and appearance to become completely impassive before she turns to Spock.

She regards him dispassionately, her childhood friend, who even now is incapable of hiding the emotions flickering in his expressive eyes. Once she would have been fascinated by those, then, later, disgusted; now she is merely weary at the thought of him and all that he is to her.

"Lieutenant T'Pring," he says, and she must give him credit for the utter lack of inflection in his voice.

"Doctor," she corrects, for that is the role with which she primarily identifies. "Greetings, Commander Spock."

"I congratulate you on your graduation, Doctor." _Gracious of him to allow me my title_ , she thinks. "Your academic records are impressive."

"They do not surpass yours," she says, and notes the twitch of the bond in her mind. Pride, or surprise? He _has_ improved at shielding himself. She can't help but add, "Except, of course, in xenobiology."

"It is to be expected; interspecies medicine is your speciality," he says, and inclines his head. "Live long and prosper, Doctor."

"Peace and long life, Spock," she replies, and steps gracefully off the stage before he has a chance to be startled at her impropriety.

He has changed much during his time away from his people; she hadn't realized how much. She will have to alter her methods of interaction with him. Though it used to be amusing to bait him—even if she didn't consider it such at the time—it is not only inappropriate now, but much easier. Surprising; she'd thought he would have loosened his tight grip on Vulcan tradition while among humans.

It doesn't occur to her to wonder if he is surprised at the changes in her as well.


End file.
